Mir. H'as studied duel too; take heed, he'll beat thee. H'as frighted the old Justice into a Feaver; I hope he'll disinherit him too for an Ass; for though he be grave with years, he's a great Baby.
Char. Do not you think me mad?
Ang. No certain, Sir, I have heard nothing from you but things excellent.
Char. You look upon my cloaths, and laugh at me, my scurvy cloaths!
Ang. They have rich linings, Sir. I would your Brother—
Char. His are gold and gawdie.
Ang. But touch 'em inwardly, they smell of Copper.
Char. Can ye love me? I am an Heir, sweet Lady, however I appear a poor dependent; love you with honour I shall love so ever. Is your eye ambitious? I may be a great man; is't wealth or lands you covet? my Father must die.
Mir. That was well put in, I hope he'll take it deeply.
Char. Old men are not immortal, as I take it; is it you look for, youth and handsomness? I do confess my Brother's a handsome Gentleman, but he shall give me leave to lead the way, Lady. Can you love for love, and make that the reward? The old man shall not love his heaps of Gold with a more doting superstition, than I'le love you. The young man his delights, the Merchant, when he ploughs the angry Sea up and sees the mountain billows falling on him, as if all the Elements, and all their angers, were turn'd into one vow'd destruction; shall not with greater joy embrace his safety. We'll live together like two wanton Vines, circling our souls and loves in one another, we'll spring together, and we'll bear one fruit; one joy shall make us smile, and one grief mourn; one age go with us, and one hour of death shall shut our eyes, and one grave make us happy.